


Wrapped Up In Your Warmth

by goldenheadfreckledheart



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 12:50:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6566944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenheadfreckledheart/pseuds/goldenheadfreckledheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Bellarke + scarves</p><p>There's a cute guy in Clarke's Art History lecture, and she's not crushing on him, because they've never met, but his enormous scarf and nerdy glasses are kind of an intoxicating combination.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrapped Up In Your Warmth

Forming random crushes on strangers in her classes is something that Clarke likes to avoid. Mostly because she prefers to at least speak to someone before letting herself get too carried away, for fear of her hopes being dashed should a proper conversation ever arise.

So she’s not so much _crushing_ on the guy who always arrives at the lecture hall just after she does—unfailingly wrapped in the same enormous grey knit scarf and carrying a cup of coffee—as much as she’s just… _noticing_ him.

And he’s hard not to notice, seeing as he’s always the first to ask their art history professor for minutiae on the time period that no one else much cares about. Not even in a _look-how-insightful-I-am_ kind of way, either, but more like he’s actually, _genuinely_ curious. She’d be lying if she said it wasn’t endearing.

The messy hair and chunky glasses don’t hurt either.

It seems relevant to mention that she does actually spend the majority of class paying attention to the material. It is her major after all. Her _thing._ But there’s nothing wrong with letting her eyes wander now and then.

There hasn’t been anyone after Finn and Lexa, and she’s not _looking_ for anyone, so it’s kind of nice to just enjoy the sensation of finding someone attractive. It’s fun in a harmless, silly kind of way. And she thinks she deserves some harmless, silly fun in her life.

* * *

 

She notices, over time, that he doesn’t always wear glasses—though she’s inclined to say her favorite days are those when he does—but the coffee seems to be a staple, which means she automatically thinks well of him. The scarf is ever present as well, always draped over the back of his chair when he settles in.

So of course she recognizes it on the snow covered ground when she walks out of class one day, the still falling flakes speckled against the grey yarn. She picks it up without thinking, shifting her books to her other arm to dust off the snow.

It’s warm in her hands as she looks around, searching for a messy head of hair. Squinting through the slanting snowfall, she finally spots him a few yards away, one hand gesturing in the cold air. She doesn’t know what he’s doing until she gets close enough to see the phone held to his ear.

Even as she gets closer, his words are carried away by the wind, and all she can tell is that he’s agitated about something. He’s wearing a sweater, but still, it’s _cold,_ and she wonders idly how he hasn’t noticed that his neck is scarf-less.

“Excuse me?” she says to his back.

It’s a nice back, objectively speaking, and she tells herself that she’d do this for anyone, not just the cute guy she’s been …creeping on? …watching? It sounds awful either way and she figures she should probably take this as a cue to stop ogling in class.

He doesn’t respond, presumably because her words are just as lost as his, so she clears her throat, giving him another chance to notice her. He doesn’t, so she reaches to tap his shoulder.

 _This_ he notices. He jumps a little, as if caught by surprise, before quickly turning to her.

“ _What?_ ” Facing her now, his voice isn’t swallowed in the wind. It’s loud, and he’s clearly annoyed, as if she’s doing something infinitely less helpful than returning a lost belonging.

The small smile on her lips fades, and turns to a scowl as his glare persists. She tries not to be too peeved as she lifts the hand holding his scarf with a look she hopes says ‘ _should I not have returned this, then?’_

She gets the slight satisfaction of seeing his eyes widen in surprise as he takes the scarf from her, and he looks like he’s about to say something to her, but clearly she’s mistaken, because a second later he’s glaring again, as the person on the phone says something she can’t quite make out.

“No! Listen to me, this isn’t what we…”

He’s turning away again before he even finishes the sentence, words lost in the wind, leaving her feeling… Look, it’s not like she’d been doing it for the gratitude, but a simple ‘thanks’ would have been nice.

This is why she doesn’t let herself get carried away though, so she turns away and tries not to dwell on it. She has more than enough homework and grad school applications to keep her busy, and adding “cute guy is kind of a dickbag” to her list of worries isn’t gonna help her be productive.

She trudges through the snow back to her apartment, hands cold now that she’s not holding the scarf.

* * *

 

She’s honestly almost forgotten about it when a slight shadow falls over her desk in the lecture hall the next morning. She looks up to find him standing beside her, looking, honestly, as good as ever, but also… sheepish?

“I wanted to apologize for yesterday,” he says before she has the chance to react. His voice is low and warm and he scratches the back of his neck as she fails to respond. “I um, turned around to thank you when I was done, and to apologize, but it turns out I was talking for ten minutes, so uh, clearly you were already gone.” He winces. “I’ve been told social interaction isn’t my forte, but I don’t think it’s ever been as apparent as in that moment.”

“Oh, well I, um…” Cute-dickbag coming to apologize wasn’t exactly something she’d been expecting. Her words fail a little.

“Oh,” he says, “I brought apology coffee.” He holds a cup out to her and she notices that he’s indeed brought two cups, instead of his customary one.

She’s still too busy reconsidering yesterday’s events to respond right away.

“Not that you need to accept the apology, because I was a total dick, but I thought I’d…” He coughs, and her brain catches up enough to notice that it’s kind of endearing, his voice deep and flustered. “And I don’t even know if you like coffee, so this was, uh, clearly not my best idea.”

He looks like he’s going to walk away, and there’s a flush running up to his ears, so she quickly pulls the proffered cup from his hand with a smile. Because apparently she’s into the whole adorable babbling thing.

“I like coffee.”

“Oh. Well, good,” he says, looking relieved, with a tentative smile of his own. She likes his smile.

“I’m Clarke, by the way.”

“Bellamy,” he returns, taking her offered hand in his larger one slowly, like he’s not sure if she’s really forgiving him.

“Do you want to sit?” she asks, inclining her head to the empty seat beside her.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” His smile is wider this time and it’s kind of blinding.

He settles in and her eyebrows furrow after a moment. “Wait, how did you know I’m in your class?”

He looks surprised, like he hasn’t even thought of this, and blushes a little. She refuses to be any more endeared than she already is.

“You’re the one who always asks the good questions about symbolism,” he says with an embarrassed shrug.

It’s not a big deal, the fact that he’s noticed her too, but somehow it feels like _something_.

So she grins back, teasingly. “And you’re the one who won’t stop pestering the professor about specific historical details that are irrelevant to the art.”

He laughs loudly at that. “Hey, I know what I’m about. History major.”

“Ah, of course. Art.”

He nods in acknowledgement.

“You really don’t mind me sitting here?” he asks after a quiet moment.

She shakes her head, because, barring the lack of apology at the time, yesterday hadn’t really been that bad.

“I really don’t. Plus this way Kane only has to take questions from one part of the room.”

She also has a really great view from here of the freckles she hadn’t noticed before, so… definitely not complaining.

They chat a bit more before class starts and she learns that he’d been on the phone with the financial aid offices, not for himself, but for his sister, who’s set to start college in the fall. (Her affection for him swells.) He works at the campus cafe—which explains the coffee—among any other odd jobs he can find. He wants to be a history professor, and is legitimately interested when she mentions she wants to be a curator one day. He’s sharp and witty and fun and his laugh warms her toes.

The next day, she smiles at him when he walks in, and he joins her again. They pay attention, mostly, but Kane is a little ridiculous sometimes, a bit over the top, so they’ll dissolve into quiet laughter every so often after meeting eyes over their notes.

It’s really just all very nice. As days go by, they’re both at rapt attention the majority of the time, but there’s something about having someone to talk to in class, someone who’s interested in the same things, someone who… has a lot of very distracting freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose that she can’t quite stop staring at.

She takes to studying at the café when she knows he’s working—her presence met with a blinding smile the first time she does it—and he drops by her table with coffee he refuses to let her pay for, coming to sit down and study with her after his shift ends.

* * *

 

After two weeks of nudging each other during class, dropping dumb jokes under breaths, flirting endlessly at the café (she likes poking fun at his scarf, mostly) he asks her out after Friday’s lecture. And as they walk out of the hall, she doesn’t hesitate in pulling him away from the crowd to press her lips to his.

Next Monday, they walk into class together, hand in hand, his scarf wrapped around her neck.

(He doesn’t look cold anyway.)

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang on [tumblr!](http://www.goldenheadfreckledheart.tumblr.com)


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